Читать книгу Bargaining for Baby / The Billionaire's Baby Arrangement: Bargaining for Baby / The Billionaire's Baby Arrangement - Robyn Grady - Страница 13

She’d been wrong. Jack wasn’t self-assured. He was plain-and-simple arrogant.

To think he expected her to not only attend this gala affair with him, but also stay the night, made Maddy more determined than ever to stand her ground. She wasn’t going. Fantasizing about throwing self-control to the wind and submitting to Jack’s smoldering advances was one thing. Agreeing to spend the night together was quite another.

If it’d been any other man, she’d have laughed in his face. Or slapped it. But Jack wasn’t any other man. He was a man of action who didn’t see a thing wrong with going after what he wanted.

And it seemed he wanted her.

Thankfully during the drive back to the house he didn’t bring the subject up again, although she was certain he hadn’t taken her objections seriously. He kept sending out the vibes … lidded looks and loaded phrases that left her half dizzy and, frankly, annoyed. Yes, she’d let him kiss her—deeply. Thoroughly. That did not mean she had any intention of acting impulsively and stealing away with him … even if part of her desperately wanted to.

After dinner, Jack took Beau out onto the veranda for some cool air while Maddy stayed behind to help Cait.

“I’m good here,” Cait told her, frothing soapy water at the sink. “You go keep Jock company with the bairn.”

Not on your life. She’d copped more than enough of Jack’s company—and sex appeal—for one day. Maddy flicked a tea towel off its rack.

“I’m sure he’d like time alone with Beau.” She rescued a dripping plate from the drainer and promptly changed the subject to something safer. “I’ve been meaning to say. the nursery’s beautiful. So fresh and the colors are just gorgeous.” Pastel blues and mauves with clouds stenciled on the ceiling and koalas painted on the walls.

Dishcloth moving, Cait nodded at the water. “I washed all the linen and curtains when Jock let me know.”

“Has that room always been the nursery? I mean, was it Jack’s and Dahlia’s room when they were babies?”

Cait’s hands stopped milling around in the suds. “Jock and Sue … his wife … they did it up.”

Maddy digested the information and slanted her head. “I didn’t think Jack wanted a family.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“In not so many words.” When Cait kept her focus on the sink, a dreadful goosebumpy feeling funneled through Maddy’s middle. What wasn’t the housekeeper telling her?

“Cait?” She set the tea towel aside. “What is it?”

After two full beats, Cait slumped and hung her head. “Sue wasn’t the only one who was taken from Jock that night three years ago.”

Maddy absorbed the words. When her mind settled on a plausible explanation, her hip hit the counter and a rush of tingles flew over her scalp.

Oh God. She closed her eyes and swallowed. “There was a baby, wasn’t there?”

“A baby boy who was wanted very much. And to have that happen just a year after his parents’ passing and Dahlia running off. He’d given up on the idea of family. Having a baby here at Leadeebrook … well, it’s hard for him.”

Maddy pressed against the sick feeling welling in her stomach. She could barely absorb it. “I wish I’d known.”

“He doesn’t talk about that day, though I’m sure he thinks about it often. Poor love, he blames himself.”

Jack exuded the confidence and ability of a man who could defeat any foe or would die trying. Having to face that he hadn’t been able to save his wife, his child …

Maddy swayed. She couldn’t imagine the weight on his conscience. Perhaps it was similar to the guilt she felt about pushing Dahlia out the door that day to have her nails and hair done. Would she ever forgive herself?

Maddy dragged herself back to the here and now. Knowing this much about Jack’s loss, she felt compelled to know more. More about how Jack’s past might affect his relationship with Beau. More about the steel cowboy who was very much a flesh and blood man underneath.

Before she could ask, Maddy’s senses prickled and she felt a presence at their backs. Heartbeat hammering, she rotated to face him.

Jack’s impressive frame filled the doorway. The baby lay asleep in one arm. His other hand was bunched by his side.

“Beau’s asleep,” he said.

Maddy secretly gripped the counter for support. He’d come up on them so quietly … how much had he heard? She was so taken aback, she could barely get her lips to work.

When she’d gathered herself, she came forward and with her arms out to take the baby, she managed a smile.

“I’ll put him down.”

With a single step, Jack retreated into the hall. “I can do it.”

Maddy’s arms lowered. When they’d met, she didn’t believe he had the wherewithal to care for this child beyond a grudging sense of duty. She certainly hadn’t envisaged him being hands-on, wanting to change and feed and put Beau to bed. Initially, when they’d arrived here, she’d placed his insistence to help in the ‘male pride’ slot—he’d once run a sheep stud empire, therefore looking after an infant should be a piece of cake.

But she’d seen a shift in his attitude, like when he’d spoken about the baby’s cheeky smile this afternoon, and when he’d lifted Beau out of the playpen to take him outside into the cool night. There’d been true caring in his eyes, a look that had touched a tender, hope-filled place inside of her.

Was he beginning to see Beau as a replacement for the child he’d lost? If so, wasn’t that a healing move for Jack as well as a good outcome for the baby? Her head said yes.

Yet something niggled.

Jack moved off down the hall to put Beau to bed and Maddy returned to the sink. Whether he went to his room later or out to the stables, she didn’t know but she didn’t see Jack again.

Afterward, she went to her room and sat on the edge of her downy bed. She’d experienced a gamut of emotions these past few days. Guilt and deepest sadness over Dahlia’s death. Fierce protectiveness toward Beau. Anger then curiosity toward Jack, followed more recently by acute physical desire and ultimately, tonight, empathy.

Slipping off her shoes, she took in her surroundings.

She didn’t fit here, but Beau would—or did. The walls of this homestead contained memories, connections, history that were a part of who he was and Dahlia had known it. But this cozy quiet room, with its lace curtains, white cast iron headboard, patchwork quilt and rustic timber floors, was so not her. Madison Tyler was tailored suits and classic jewelry, multiple meetings and hardnose decisions. At this point in her life, Madison Tyler was the Pompadour account.

Exhaling, she studied her BlackBerry on the bedside table. Good or bad, she couldn’t put that phone call off any longer.

Her father picked up with his usual abbreviated greeting. “Tyler here.”

Maddy held the phone tighter to her ear. “Hey, Dad.”

He groaned a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I need you back here yesterday.”

Holding her brow, she fell back against the quilt. Worse than she’d thought.

“What’s wrong?”

“Pompadour wants to look at the campaign at the end of next week.”

Her eyes flew open while her heart sank. “That’s two weeks earlier than scheduled.”

“They’re eager to see what we have. I’m eager to show them.” His voice cooled. “What about you?”

She visualized her big desk in her corner office suite even as she gazed at the vintage molded ceiling and felt today’s soft fleece beneath her fingers. Then she heard Jack’s plea … you and I are staying the night.

Her stomach knotted.

Her father wanted her to leave straight away?

“Maddy, you there?”

Thinking quick, she sat up. Today was Tuesday.

“The Pompadour proposal is polished and printed,” she told him. “There’s only the Powerpoint to tidy up and a final briefing with the staff involved. If I get back mid-next week, say crack of dawn Wednesday, that’ll be plenty of time to pull those last strings together.”